


Cornered

by Flakingnapstich



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Badass, Banter, False Accusations, Major Character(s), On the Run, Other, Set after Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory, Surveillance, Trapped, pretending not to understand to get the villain to confess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flakingnapstich/pseuds/Flakingnapstich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gun is pointed at Dr. Spencer Reid's chest by a man who intends to pull the trigger as part of a plot to frame Reid for murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cornered

Dr. Spencer Reid felt surprisingly calm for a man who had a gun pointed at his chest.

The room was dark, the only illumination from the venetian blinds in the window. They seemed out of place in a cement room that had been stripped of it’s other furnishings. It was the kind of decaying, post-progress urban decay Reed had grown accustomed to in his years with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“I got you know,” the man with the gun said. “The manhunt’s over bitch. By the time I call for backup, you’ll be dead, and I’ll tell them all about how you confessed before pulling a gun on me.”

“I haven’t confessed to anything,” Raid said calmly.

“Pretty stupid for a genius,” the man with the gun replied. “Doesn't matter what you really say, just what I tell them you said.”

“I’m still confused,” Reid replied.

The man laughed coldly.

“I mean, you seem to think people will take your word for it after all this.”

“They always have,” the man said with satisfaction.

“True, but that was before the FBI got involved.”

“And through you I’ve cast doubt on your entire unit.”

“Which will only intensify the ensuing investigation. For your ‘theory’ to be believed, several department within the FBI would have needed to fake my travel expenses, records of my presence at crime scenes, local law enforcement in several cities would have to have been involved, the scope of the conspiracy you’re proposing is enormous. It would strain credibility on the David Icke forums.”

“Who?”

“David Icke. Popular British conspiracy theorist, claims reptilian shape shifters rule the world from a secret base under the Denver International airport, but a lot of people think his talk of ‘reptilians’ is just a cover for anti sem-”

“You think you’re so smart, but you’re not. When this ends you’ll be dead and I’ll have another case closed thanks to my legendary police work and revolutionary profiling skills.”

”That was your big mistake,” Reid said. 

The man laughed coldly. “I made a mistake?”

“Well, yes, your post-hoc, I hesitate to use the word ‘profiling’ because it’s nothing of the kind, your post-hoc rationalizations for who you gun down have no relationship to any form of psychology, psychiatry, behavir-”

“That’s the beauty of it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You spoiled little rich brat. I know your kind, doting parents who handed you everything, convinced you’re better than anyone else because you got handed a silver spoon. Well now you met your match. After three days on the run I’ve corned you, lured you out. You thought you were so clever, ‘decrypting’ my clues, but little did YOU know I’d arranged them with my Chief. This is a trap.”

“Well, I KNEW it was a trap.”

“And you were still stupid enough to come here.”

“Well, you’ve got me there. I had to risk it, you know? I had to talk to you.”

“Hmh. Had to know how I did it?”

“Well, the ‘evidence’ trail you used to frame me was pretty predictable, I’m more curious about your other kills. Have you EVER killed anyone in the line of duty who wasn’t a patsy for one of your other murders?”

“You really don’t get it do you?”

“Well, no, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I knew you’d be easy when you walked in. A damn autistic loser pretending to be a genius. Your kind is easy to take down. Like that bitch Salsman. I gunned down her brainiac son after I gunned her down. Even explained away what I did to her by saying her son confessed to me before attacking.”

“I read about that case,” Reid said, “They called him the ‘Oedipus’ in the Post.”

“Damn right they did,” he replied.

“So why’d you do it? Why kill all those people?”

“I knew you were as big a fraud as me. Eats you up not knowing, doesn't it? Truth be told I half thought you WERE a serial killer like me when we met. Can’t think of another reason why anyone would go in for this ‘profiling’ garbage.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Let’s just say I’ve never given an accurate posthumous confession.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“So level with me. What was your most memorable kill like?” 

A shadow passed across Reid’s face. He didn't want to talk about it, but it was necessary. Best not to lie. “It was a man who’d been torturing me. He had three distinct personalities. A son, his real personality, who tried to help me by injecting me with hallucinogens. That’s what caused the positive test on the hair sample test you ordered. Another personality was modeled after his deceased, abusive and religiously obsessed father. A third personality was the one that had become a serial killer. At one point that personality murdered the lover of an adulterous woman, and tied her up to be eaten alive by dogs.”

“Felt good to kill him, didn’t it?”

“No. He was sick, and a murderer, and he’d tortured me, but when I took the gun from him and shot him, he reverted to the son’s personality, and all he talked about was if he’d see his Mom when he died.”

“Sounds like the freak got inside your head.”

“What about yours? What was your favorite kill?”

“I knew it,” he said with a smirk. “After today, I think it’ll be yours. Before this my favorite kill was a father daughter double-tap. The bitch was running for city council and treated me like trash when I put the moves on her. Made her watch me cap her old man then blew her brains out with her lips wrapped around my love missle.”

“Leila Marta and her father Boris, wasn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I made the old fart say ‘Moose and Squirrel’ in a bad Russian accent before I capped him.”

“You shot Chima Vano, claiming he bragged about the killing before you shot him.”

“Yep.”

“Had Mr. Vano done anything to deserve it?”

“Had a record, black skin, was an illegal, what more did I need?”

“Were there any kills that left you unsatisfied?”

“No one’s going to save you if you keep talkin, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve spent my life studying people like you. It’s a hard habit to bre-”

“People like me?” He was angry, “Trust me bitch, you’ve NEVER seen anyone like me. I’ve been killing the people who pissed me off and framing scum for ten years. I’ve been getting away with it and I’ll keep getting away with it.”

“What did I do to piss you off?”

“It was that first day you walked in, acting all high and mighty with the rest of your FBI bitches. How long did it take you to memorize enough of the cases to spout it all off, like you knew it inside and out in the meeting? And then there was the profile you offered. What made you think you knew anything about the killer you were hunting?”

“What did we get wrong?”

“YOU never knew it was a COP!”

Reid thought about the protocols for when a member of law enforcement was involved, and how it almost never entailed telling the detectives on the scene. He said nothing about it however. Instead he said, “You never answered my question.”

“What question?” was the screamed reply.

“What was your least satisfying kill?”

“You’d like to hear about that wouldn't you poindexter? You’re beaten and thrashed, all your precious brians worth nothing against me, so you’re desperate for one sliver before I shoot you pin a cop killing on you.”

“The suspicion won’t go away with my death,” Reid said. “We wouldn't have been called in if there wasn’t suspicion.”

“Suspicion I can handle.”

“There’s no actual evidence I did anything, and a lot of evidence I’m innocent.”

“An no one’s going to bring that up against a hero cop in a local jurisdiction case. I’ll go down in history as the hero cop who uncovered a conspiracy that the FBI covered up.”

“But the conspiracy is a work of fiction.”

“So?”

“You’ve got me there. There was something else-”

“No there isn’t. We’re done. As much as I’ve enjoyed this, my crew’s gettin’ antsy outside. They want a corpse to take to the morgue.”

“You know this ends with you in jail.”

“I doubt it. You’ll be dead before that happens anyway. Spoiled little rich brat, making up stories about killing some psycho, pretending you know what it’s like to be on the front lines, in danger. Worthless little office bitches like you deserve what I give.”

He fired the gun, hitting Reid in the chest, just over the heart. Reid collapsed and didn’t move. The shooter looked at the spray of red and, satisfied with his marksmanship, left the room.

As usual the building was flooded with cops and a couple EMTs not long after he pulled the trigger. He surrender his weapon, procedure, and left with the rest of the team, procedure. What he didn’t expect was a blond woman with an FBI badge who was pushing 50 to take him into custody.

Three days later, still in custody, he found himself sitting in an uncomfortable chair yelling at the attorney who’d been appointed by the police union. “What do you mean the pencil neck geek isn't dead?”

“You're damn lucky he isn't dead, it’s one less murder rap you’re facing.”

“God damn it Archie, how was I supposed to know he had on a bullet proof vest? What does it matter anyway? It’s my word against his.”

“And the recordings.”

“What recording?”

“RecordingS. As in multiple.”

“Must be fake.”

“Don’t ask me to use that argument in court, it won’t hold. They’ve got five recordings on different equipment, all with their own audio artifacts.”

“They’re FAKE.”

“Lying to me will not help you. I’m your attorney.”

“How the Hell could I miss five wires? They HAVE to be fake.”

“You REALLY don’t get it do you?”

“You’re my lawyer, explain it to me.”

“You've been playing at being a profiler for ten years, but the guy you put on the run really IS a profiler, one of the best. I’ve already read his statement. You know where he hid out? At the public library. He was reading the newspaper archives, profiling you. He figured out where you were going to set you trap BEFORE you set it. He paid cash for some burner phones and audio equipment and had the warehouse broadcasting to the FBI BEFORE you went there. There’s audio of you talking to yourself while you were casing the place BEFORE you spat out your lame riddle to the press.”

“How the HELL could he know where i was going to set the trap?”

Archie lobbed a folder at his client. “That’s the profile he wrote on you while he was on the run. He figured out you killed your brother from newspaper articles.”

“He figu- He WHAT?”

“The man predicted what’s we’d find in police files based on what he saw in the newspapers.”

“You know what this means?”

“Oh, please tell me.”

“It means HE murdered my brother and framed my Father!”

“He would have been seven.”

“Well-”

“In the care of a mentally ill mother whom HE was caring for.”

“What kind of BS is that? He’s a rich brat from a rich home-”

“See now, we’re NOT trying that tactic. Making him out to be a silver spoon brat won’t work if he brings up his REAL past.”

“I should have used an armor piercing round.”

Archie grabbed the profile and flipped to page 20. He pointed at a line and said triumphantly, “Ah! But he KNEW you’d never do that. It’s right there in the profile. He has TWO PAGES explaining the logic behind why using an armor piercing round wouldn’t fit your pattern.”

“Chief Koralo will vouch for me.”

“Koralo has Internal Affairs so far up his ass he can taste their brylcreem. He broke a LOT of laws covering for you and it’s all coming out. The D.A and a bunch of his team are toast too. A lot of crap got overlooked for you and it’s all come down.”

“We’re telling the judge I’m not guilty.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid has FIVE recordings of you confessing. FIVE. One was recorded on the voicemail for the FBI’s Internal Affairs. Another was sent to the tech for his own team. Another was on your own department’s Internal Affairs tip line, and my favorite, was a live call to, get this, this is great, a Hollywood actress whose life he saved last year. You know what that did? THAT made sure this whole mess crossed state lines, so any investigation is FBI jurisdiction.”

“Got any good news?”

“You did all your killing in a state without the death penalty.”

“Any more bad news?”

“Some chick M.E. from Boston named Cavenaugh is being flown in to exhume everyone you shot and redo their autopsies. She was specifically picked because she has, get this, a reputation for being damn good and for pissing all over politics. You kill and gut a serial killer? She’s STILL going to bring you down. Oh, and the FBI guy in charge of THEIR investigation is some guy named Booth with a 90% conviction rate. On the bright side, he’s only investigating your framing and attempted murder of an FBI agent and the three killings they’ve figured out that were across state lines.” Archie was getting a little hysterical at this point.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Plead guilty and offer a full confession on the condition the Feds take the death penalty off the table.”

“No. I’m not spending the rest of my life in jail.”

Archie Iriney’s bubbling frustration and hysteria got the better of him, and he began laughing. After a few minutes he realized he was not going to be able to compose himself, so he left, laughing in frustration and rage as he walked through all the security checkpoints. The guards offered him consoling looks, one commenting, “Don’t worry Bub, it happens. Let it out. Better laugh than cry.”

It was at that point Archie Iriney decided his next career would be as a pastry chef, and that transition really should be his top priority.

Meanwhile, Dr. Spencer Reid sat in a physical therapist’s office, discussing the treatment for the broken rib he sustained when he was shot in the chest while wearing an FBI bullet proof vest.


End file.
